Spacefire
by Nindroid
Summary: When a mysterious ship called the Spacefire sends out a distress signal to the Enterprise, the crew stumbles upon a group of criminals who have a deal with the inhabitants of Talvos IV-Bring every member of Starfleet to their planet. Involves ChekovxOC, because nobody seems to write anything but Chekov/Sulu
1. Chapter 1

The ship hovered right in front of the Enterprise. It's hull was covered in bright red letters spelling out _The Spacefire_. It was a purple color, and of a design similar to that of a giant submarine with airplane wings.

Captain Kirk had never seen anything like it.

While leaning forward, studying the unidentifiable spaceship, he ordered, "I want everything you can get on that ship!"

His first officer, Spock, swiveled to face him. "Captain, the ship is not in any of our database."

Kirk's eyebrows knitted together. It was obviously not a Starfleet ship. "Lieutenant Uhura, connect me to that ship."

The said Uhura nodded and commenced in attempting contact. "Sir, no reply on all frequencies."

Kirk rested his chin on his hand, which was propped up by his arm rests. An unidentifiable ship refusing to answer his transmissions.

_Smells like trouble to me. _

Suddenly, Uhura's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sir, I'm receiving a distress signal from the ship!"

"The possibility of there having been damage on the ship itself is impossible-there are no signs of any ," Spock informed Kirk.

"We need to find out what's going on in there. Dr. McCoy, Mr. Chekov, Mr. Spock, we're beaming about the _Spacefire."_

* * *

The first thing the four saw upon entering the _Spacefire_ was a limp body slumped over the controls in the ship's small transporter room.

McCoy rushed forward to feel his pulse.

Chekov's eyebrows raised into an arch. "Is he dead?"

McCoy turned around and nodded, causing the young ensign's face to pale.

"What happened here?" Kirk muttered, stepping down to the dead man.

"Keptin," Chekov inched towards the body. "I thought this ship wasn't from Starfleet?"

This, perhaps, was the oddest part of it all. Though the ship was not recognized as a federation vessel, the man was garbed in a red shirt bearing Starfleet's emblem.

Spock stood a little bit behind, musing. As the others advanced cautiously past the entrance and into the corridor, Spock inspected the red shirt.

He then played upon a hunch. He moved his fingers towards the little arch on the shirt and clawed at it.

It came off as easily as if it were a sticker.

* * *

"Alright, we're going to need to split up and see what's going on here," Kirk informed his companions. "Wait. . .where's Spock?"

"Probably off being Spock somewhere," McCoy muttered. "I think we should-"

"I think we shouldn't, Dr. McCoy," Kirk interrupted. "Chekov, you go that way-" He pointed down the right side of the hallway. "McCoy, you go the opposite direction. I'm going to explore the rooms."

"Aye, Keptin," Chekov nodded and walked down the corridor. McCoy shrugged and went his own way.

Kirk started for a nearby hallway, one filled with rooms. Here, he would begin searching. He set his phaser for stun and entered a room.

The room was a bedroom. It contained a freshly made bed, a couple of paintings on the wall and the like.

The only odd part was the blood on the floor.

* * *

Chekov's eyes darted back and forth frantically, searching for any sign or movement in the hall. As he neared the end of that hall and near the beginning of a new one, the sound of a gunshot filled his ears.

A scream followed. It was a feminine scream, no doubt. A chuckle came afterwards. Chekov ran into the next hall.

There, lying on the floor, was an Orien girl, garbed in the same suit as the worker in the transporter room. A waterfall or crimson liquid ran out of her arm and onto the floor.

Chekov rushed to kneel next to her. "Are you alright?"

"Who. . " She struggled to say. "Who.. . .are. . .you?"

"No time to explain. I've got to find Dr. McCoy," He scooped the girl up in his arms and staggered into McCoy's direction.

* * *

Kirk saw no body; just the blood. His eyes swept around the room. Then he heard something.

Rustling.

"Who's there?"

More rustling.

"I am Captain Kirk of the starship _Enterprise_. Who's there?"

A shaky hand protruded from under the bed, followed by another, and then a body. A body of a middle aged man. In his right hand, his fingers were closed around a phaser. A bandage encircled his arm. "Y-you're not o-one of them, are you?"

"One of who?" Kirk knelt to the ground.

"The attackers," The man muttered. "I am Link, the ship's doctor. We've been attacked and kidnapped."

"By who?"

Link shrugged. "None of us know."

"How many others are on here?"

At that moment, Spock briskly walked in. "Their uniforms are fake, Captain." His eyes then rested upon Link.

Link lifted his head up. "No, they're not. We've been abducted."

Spock's brows, for a moment, raised quizzically. "Then why-"

"This?" Link ripped the Starfleet emblem off his uniform. "They replaced ours with these. I don't know why. I don't know anything-except for the fact that they're taking us to Talvos IV!"


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Captain," For a quick moment, Spock appeared to be confused the expression quickly faded. "I thought the issue with Talvos IV was resolved."

"So did I," Kirk looked down at the trembling Link. "You have no idea what's going on?"

Link shook his head. "I don't."

"How do you know you're going to Talvos IV?"

Link gave no answer. He simply peered at the ceiling, blinking rarely. Kirk placed the doctor on his bed. "Why's he doing this?"

Spock inspected the carpet around him. "He appears to have lost a great deal of blood, Captain-"

Kirk muttered something unknown under his breath. "We have to find Bones." He struggled to lift Link up.

The doors slid open. As Spock and Kirk walked out, a frantic Chekov staggered towards them, carrying a bloody, Orion female. Chekov's expression was that of urgency, of someone with a need for speed.

"Chekov!" Kirk's brows arched skyward.

"Keptin, I heard a gunshot, and then she was lying on the ground bleeding and she needs medical attention!" The ensign's rapid speaking-coupled with his heavy Russian accent-hindered understanding. However, one thing was clear: They had to find McCoy. . .immediately!

Kirk flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to McCoy."

No answer."

He looked up at Spock and Chekov. "No response."

Chekov's voice was shaky as he muttered, "Keptin, do you think-"

"No. McCoy had a phaser- he had protection," Kirk interjected.

Spock, meanwhile, was examining the Orion's gunshot wound. The said injured girl's eyes rolled heavenward and moans escaped from her parted lips. "Captain, this girl requires immediate attention!"

"Yes, Spock, we covered that," A distraught Kirk-still carrying Link-started down the way McCoy went. Chekov followed, bringing the Orion with him and away from Spock's inspecting eyes.

"Are we looking for Dr. McCoy, Keptin?"

"Yes, Chekov. Look in every room." Kirk proceeded to poke his head into one.

Chekov began imitating his captain. The girl in his arms started fidgeting. Her irises began to swivel, surveying the room. They then rested on Chekov. Her eyes were a startling green, even more brilliant than the shade of her skin. Chekov felt colors rush to his cheeks under their gaze.

"Where am I?" She whispered.

Chekov looked around for a moment. "The _Spacefire_, I don't know for what reason. You've been shot."

Her eyes moved to look at her arm. Upon seeing the open wound and fresh blood, she blacked out once again.

"Keptin!" Chekov called. "She's dying!"

The ensign's words hastened Kirk to move faster. He began checking in rooms even more rapidly.

As he ran into a dorm, he found the body of Dr. McCoy laying on the floor.

His shirt was stained red.

"SPOCK!" Kirk screeched, practically dropping Link. Spock answered the call and was quickly knelt down beside McCoy. The color from McCoy's face was draining rapidly.

Spock struggled to hoist the doctor up. At that moment, Chekov raced in.

"Is he dead?" He asked.

"No," Spock answered calmly. Blood from the injured doctor rubbed onto his uniform.

It seemed a horrid situation. An ensign, a first officer and their captain, each carrying a wounded individual, in a ship supposedly run by red-shirt killing abductees.

Lovely.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey, readers! Just discovered that nifty little line thingy that separates sections :P I hope you like this chapter, sorry for the relatively short length. I hope you also like my little comment about the lack of signal :P And I just remembered there's no blood involved with phasers. Wondering how I'll deal with that :P

* * *

Spock got to work, attempting to tend to the gunshot victims. Each was straying further from reality with every passing second. He busied himself scavenging the room for bandages, or anything remotely close. The wounds on link and the Orion were no longer pouring blood, prompting Spock to move faster. Any minutes he could loose one of his 'patients'.

Kirk and Chekov were positioned at the doors, phasers on stun. They both knew that the attackers could be anywhere; just around the corner, maybe even hiding in the same room.

Chekov started fidgeting. His nature never involved simply waiting. He preferred action. And while there was a large quantity of suspense, an equal amount of boredom existed. Chekov absentmindedly leaned against the wall, unaware that he was sharing it with a control panel.

The lights turned of.

"I'm sorry, Keptin! Chekov screeched as he groped around for the button that controlled the lights.

Kirk cursed under his breath. Now would be the ideal time for an ambush.

Fans swirled into life as Chekov desperately thumbed every button the came into contact with his shaking hand. Soft music drifted from speakers somewhere in the room.

"They'll hear us!" Kirk muttered, frantically joining Chekov by the panel.

Spock remained composed, rifling rapidly through drawers. Finally, he stumbled upon a uniform bearing the Starfleet emblem-most likely another fake. He immediately began shredding the shirt into pieces.

The lights flickered on and off.

"Chekov, what on earth is going on?" Kirk demanded loudly.

"I don't know, sir!" Suddenly, Chekov's finger landed on the correct button. The lights stayed on.

Spock knelt down next the wounded. Even the Orion's emerald skin appeared to be loosing color.

"Can you save them, Spock?" Kirk rushed next to his first officer. Chekov regained his position at the door.

"For a short time, Captain. However, I do not have the necessary equipment to keep them alive more than approximately three hours."

"We have to get back to the _Enterprise_." Kirk flipped open his communicator. "Kirk to _Enterprise._" Upon receiving no reply, he repeated himself. "Come in, _Enterprise_."

No response.

Kirk closed the communicator. "Something's blocking our signal."

"Something's always blocking our signal," Chekov muttered under his breath, suppressing an annoyed sigh. It was true, though. Somehow, no matter where they beamed, they lost connection with the ship.

McCoy's eyes began fluttering open, squinting in the light. Spock's own eyes caught the slight motion and averted towards the doctor.

"Dr. McCoy, how do you feel?" He asked.

"Terrible. Where the heck are we?"  
"Aboard the Spacefire. You've been shot."

McCoy's brows knitted together. "What?" He then noticed the dried blood on his uniform. Weakly, he attempted to sit up. "They got me good."

"They?" Kirk was there like a shot. "There was more than one?"

McCoy shrugged halfheartedly. "I think so. . .I vaguely recollect more than one."

"What'd they look like?"

"Gosh, Jim, I don't remember enough to give you a detailed analysis! I'm a doc-"

Kirk rolled his eyes. "Yes, Bones, I get your point."

Chekov let out an abrupt scream. The other conscious people in the room swiveled their heads to see a man holding a phaser at the ensign's head.

* * *

"Vag!" An angry superior, name of Truit.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Well, uh-"

Groaning. "Vag, you are hopeless!"

The distraught man jumped up from his seat. "Have we got them, sir?"

"Oh, we've got them. Room 3C. Hurry up and get in there!"

Vag grabbed a phaser and briskly strode to the elevator, tucking his small, portable game system into this pant pockets.

Upon arriving to level three, he advanced cautiously out of the elevator.

_After all, _he reasoned, _they could have any number of reinforcements waiting to pounce._

He reached the room with ease, and found their captain, Flint, with a phaser ready to blow a young officer's brains out. His face possessed a where-the-heck-have-you-been look.

Another officer, garbed in yellow, stood up, phaser held with a level hand. "I am Captain James T. Kirk, captain of the starship _Enterprise_. We mean no-"

"Of course you don't," Flint spat, eyes flickering to Kirk's weapon. Vag raised his own at the captain. "Now, unless you want the kid's blood all over the floor, you'll do as I say."

The said kid's face was plastered with a fearful expression. His eyes were set on the phaser placed to his head.

"What do you want?" Kirk lowered his phaser slightly.

"You'll not touch the injured," Flint began. "You will all stay in here and will not come out."

Kirk's appearance expressed an unspoken 'Why?', but he simply tucked his weapon back into his belt, which Flint nodded at. "You'll be giving those too us."

Kirk hesitated, but nodded. He handed his phaser to Flint, as did a shaky Chekov and a calm Spock, who also handed over the weapons of the wounded.

Flint and Vag retreated slowly from the room. The superior then turned to his employee. "Stay here, and don't let them out. I'll have someone with the shirts come by soon."

"What if they figure out, you know, about the shirts?"

"They won't," Flint grinned. "If they'd like to stay alive, that is.


End file.
